


The Lion and the Tailor

by Zalonar



Category: Vento Aureo - Fandom, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Gen, M/M, Prequel, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zalonar/pseuds/Zalonar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being sentenced to prison for bribery, Leone Abbachio finds himself in an another world of contradictions. Jaded by his experience as a police officer, he abides by the rules of the corrupt system. That is, until he meets one man...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lion and the Tailor

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post to this site, so I apologize for the poor formatting. I'll try get get better at it.

* * *

 

                There once was a proud Lion who loved his teeth. One day, the Lion mistook a boulder for a sitting buffalo, and when he pounced to bite it, his teeth shattered. The Lion, so distraught for the loss of his beloved teeth, hid in his den to cry and sulk.

                Eventually, a wandering Tailor passed by the Lion’s den and heard the creature sulking.

                “Lion, why are you so sad?” the Tailor asked the moping beast.

               “I broke my teeth on a big rock. Now, I can’t hunt anymore. I’m completely useless!” the Lion moaned.

               At this the Tailor laughed, “Hahaha. Silly Lion! You’re not useless. You still have your claws, don’t you? How about this? Come with me to my shop, and I’ll show you what you can do.”

               And so, the Lion followed the Tailor many miles to his shop. Once inside, the Tailor took a bolt of silk down from a shelf, laid it out on a table, and said, “Take your fine claws and cut this cloth into squares.”

              The Lion did so, and as he dragged his paw down the cloth, his claw cut through better than any pair of scissors could.

              “Well done,” praised the Tailor, “If you stay here and assist me with my work, every day, I will feed you meat so tender that you won’t need teeth to chew it.”

              Hearing this, the Lion was happier than he had ever been. The Lion stayed with the Tailor to help with his work, and together with the Tailor, the Lion was happy for the rest of his days.

* * *

 

 

                Once the court had handed down the sentence for bribery and corruption, I was sent off to the Rising Sun prison in south Naples. The welcome was about what I expected a bunch of gangsters and thugs would give to a straight edged looking chump like me. At least they didn’t know I used to be a cop. By the end of the first day, a large man with a broad, wall-eyed face came up to me and said, “Hey! You’re that new prisoner, Leone Abbachio, right? Listen. Unless you want your time here to be way worse, you’re gonna pay me five cigarettes a day. Otherwise, you’ll spend the rest of your sentence limping.”

                I used to be a damn cop. I knew this kind of behavior shouldn’t be tolerated in prison. Then I remembered how I got there. This sort of thing happens all the time. Someone makes the laws to put up a system. Someone breaks the laws and sets their own system. The corrupted system takes hold and life goes on. Trying to uphold the old laws would just cause more trouble.

                So, for almost two weeks I adhered to the corrupt system. On the twelfth day, as I was crossing the yard to pay the wall-eyed man named Passera’s tribute, a voice called out to me.

                “You know you don’t have to pay Passera, right?”

                I stopped and turned around to face the man with shining black hair and the piercing gaze who had walked up to berate me.

                “Well, Passera seems to think I do. So does everyone else who pays him,” I responded to my thin-built lecturer.

                “Passera is a stray dog, and the rest of the inmates are sheep. Extortion is illegal even in prison. As a former police officer, I assumed you would know that,” he stated as he crossed his arms like a disappointed parent.

                That sent me aback. How could he have known that?

                “Look, I don’t know who told you that, but they should have also informed you that trying to stop corruption is what got me in here.”

                “I’m not saying you need fight Passera out of some misguided sense of lawfulness. What I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be complicit to his rules.”

                “I just don’t want to rock the boat anymore,” I sighed, “I’ve already paid Passera this long. The last time the last time I tried to go back from complicity it cost me everything.”

                “Then try it again! Don’t simply lay back to rot. A man without conviction, who does not hold to his ideals, has no reason for living,” the black-haired man retorted as he turned to walk away.

                After a moment, I continued towards Passera. When I reached him he sneered and chided, “Ah, there’s the little Abbachio! Do you have your payment for the big fish?”

                As his words oozed into my ears, the words of the slim dark-haired man came to me. “A man without conviction…has no reason for living.” Instantly, anger flashed within me, and suddenly, I had Passera on the ground. I punched him sixty times. By punch twenty-three, he was begging me to stop. Punch forty-six, he was crying. Punch sixty, he was unconscious.

                As I stood up, I looked to the other inmates standing around me stunned and announced, “” when he wakes up, tell him that if he extorts anyone else, I’ll hit him for every cigarette he’s paid!”

                I walked back towards the man with the shimmering black hair who had been watching a few yards away. As he stared stone faced at me he said, “Well done, Leone Abbachio. You have conviction. Now, you need a purpose.”

                That man was Bruno Buccelati. He was the man who would keep me alive during my sentence and whose gang I would eventually join.


End file.
